


Come Here Often?

by Dragonflies_and_Katydids



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Multi, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2019-09-19 13:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17002854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragonflies_and_Katydids/pseuds/Dragonflies_and_Katydids
Summary: There's flirting, and then there'sflirting. Bull knows which one he's hoping for in this case.The story is really barely over the line into M, which makes it a bit of a tease. Sorry!(An old prompt-fill from Tumblr)





	Come Here Often?

Bull doesn’t notice them at first: the bar is crowded, and he’s barely got one drink order down before the next six are flying at him. The only reason he and Krem aren’t tripping over each other is because they’ve been doing this for years, and even with that, they’re still grabbing for the same bottles, often as not. Fuck, Bull doesn’t have time to breathe, much less look at anyone who isn’t shoving money or a glass in his face.

They get a break shortly before midnight, and that’s the first time Bull notices the two men at the table towards the back. Well, that’s when Krem digs an elbow into his ribs and says, “You’ve got admirers, Chief.”

“Lots to admire about me,” Bull says, grinning.

Krem snorts. “Well, corner table, at your eleven o'clock. They look like they agree.”

Deliberately casual, Bull wipes down a spot on the bar as he lets his gaze drift left, and sure enough, someone is watching him. Only one someone, though: a blond guy who looks as Fereldan as they get, sharing a table with a ‘Vint whose attention is fixed on his companion with a level of rapt attention Bull thinks is kind of cute. It’s a lot less cute that his date is quirking an inviting eyebrow in Bull’s direction.

Mildly annoyed on the ‘Vint’s behalf, Bull is about to turn away when the Fereldan elbows the other guy–-it looks about as gentle as the elbow Krem recently planted in Bull’s ribs-–and suddenly Bull finds two pairs of eyes staring back at him. From this distance, it’s hard to read body language or anything except the most obvious facial expressions, but he’s pretty sure he’s not imagining that they’re interested in more than just a refill on their drinks.

“Hey!” somebody says, and Bull’s attention snaps the woman standing in front of him with an empty glass and an expectant look.

“Sorry,” he says. He digs through his memory for the last time she was here. “Another cosmopolitan?”

She smiles like he’s guessed her birthday. “I don’t know how you can remember everybody like that.”

“Just the pretty ones,” he says, flirting shamelessly, and gets to work on her drink.

She leaves a nice tip, but then another rush hits, and it’s twenty minutes before he can look back at the table where the two guys were sitting. They’re still there, but this time it’s the ‘Vint looking back at him while the Fereldan is turned around in his chair talking to a dark-haired woman. She’s in the middle of some kind of rant, if the finger she’s stabbing into her own palm is anything to go by. The Fereldan is smiling at her, his shoulders relaxed, so Bull figures it isn’t a fight in the making and goes back to looking at the ‘Vint still looking at him.

It’s a nice view, and well worth looking at. Even the mustache that should look ridiculous somehow doesn’t, and the smile he’s aiming at Bull is more than friendly. Of course, flirting doesn’t have to be about more than flirting, and he’s definitely  _with_  the Fereldan for more than just sharing a table tonight.

On the other hand, neither of them seems to care if the other is flirting, so Bull smiles back, the same smile he gave the woman earlier. No reason for more, but also no reason to be unfriendly.

The 'Vint leans over to whisper something in the blond’s ear, and now they’re both looking in Bull’s direction again. The dark-haired woman heaves a sigh Bull can see all the way across the room, along with an eye-roll that involves her whole body, and whacks the blond on the back of the head. He winces and puts his hand where she hit him, but the grin is still there, and it only gets wider when she stabs her finger in the 'Vint’s face.

Bull doesn’t need to be in earshot to know she’s saying, “This is your fault.”

What, exactly, is the 'Vint’s fault isn’t clear, until the woman stalks off and the table’s occupants are looking at Bull again. The 'Vint leans over without taking his eyes off Bull and whispers something in the other guy’s ear. They’re too far away for Bull to see the blush, but he can read embarrassment in the set of the blond’s (very nice) shoulders. He’d give a lot to know what was in that whisper.

Or maybe he doesn’t have to give anything, because the Fereldan is raising his beer bottle to his lips without breaking eye contact, and he licks,  _fucking licks_ , the mouth of the bottle. It’s brief, but there’s no way it wasn’t deliberate.

Krem’s (very pointy) elbow catches him in the ribs again. “Okay, Chief,” he says. “Quit gawking.”

“I am not gawking,” Bull says with dignity. “I’m ogling. Totally different.”

“Whatever,” Krem says. “You’re not serving drinks.”

Unfortunately true, and since they pay him to serve drinks, he really needs to get on that.

It’s another ten minutes before he has time to breathe, and the first place he looks is over at that table and its occupants. Sure enough, their heads are leaned together facing him, and as soon as he makes eye contact, the 'Vint turns to press a lingering kiss to the blond’s cheek. Which gets another blush Bull can’t see except in the way the guy hunches his shoulders, but since he’s also grinning, Bull figures he doesn’t mind but so much.

All night. They tease him  _all fucking night_ , between the waves of people coming up for drinks. Every twenty or thirty minutes, there’ll be a pause, and Bull will look over, and they’ll be doing something: kissing each other on the cheek, or whispering in each other’s ears, or just leaning close and watching him. They never quite cross over into either nauseating or obscene, though the 'Vint treads the line once, his hand sliding under the table until the Fereldan catches it and pulls it back into view with a firm headshake.

It’s hot as fuck, and it would be hotter if Bull could figure out whether this is an actual invitation or just how they get their kicks. He keeps waiting for them to leave, but they don’t, camped out at that table with their drinks and their smirks. Around one-thirty, he sees the Fereldan slip a bill to their server; Bull can’t see it, but her eyes widen in surprise before she smiles broadly. Paying her in exchange for the tips she’s not getting because they’re taking up her table, Bull guesses, and he likes them more for it.

When their server comes back to the bar to pick up her next order, she leans over enough to tell him their names, grinning as she does it. Bull grins back at her. Cullen and Dorian. Not hard to figure out which name goes with which guy.

As the clock ticks past two and starts creeping up on three, things at the bar begin to slow down, and Bull has more and more time to look over at that table. The chance that their flirting is an actual invitation is getting higher the longer they stay, and Bull’s heart is beginning to beat faster in anticipation.

Just past three, Krem heaves a sigh and says, “Okay, Chief, stop looking and do something. I think I can cover it from here.”

Bull hesitates, looking down at Krem, who’s looking back at him with fond exasperation. “I’m pretty sure they’re prepared to stay until I’m done,” Bull says.

“Yeah, well, I’m not prepared to watch this for another hour. The three of you are getting me hot, and since I’m not invited to the party, it’d be nice if you took it somewhere else.” When Bull continues to hesitate, Krem grabs his shoulders to turn him forcibly around and begin to untie his apron for him. “For fuck’s sake,  _go_.”

Laughing, Bull turns back around and shoves Krem gently. “I got it, I got it. I’m going, just give me five seconds.”

Krem makes a point of looking at his watch, like he’s actually going to count off the seconds, and Bull shoves him again. “Go serve some drinks, asshole.”

“I’ll get Rocky and Grim to haul you over there if you’re still here when I get back,” Krem threatens. Without waiting for a response, he heads down the bar toward a glass raised pointedly high.

Bull smiles and looks over at what he now thinks of as The Table. It’s impossible to maintain eye contact with two people at once, but he does his best as he finishes untying his apron with slow, deliberate movements. Once he’s taken it off, he tucks it behind the bar with exaggerated care, making sure his meaning is clear: “I’m done here. Time to put up or shut up.”

By the way they both lean forward, the answer is exactly the one he was hoping for.

They don’t look away until he’s almost to their table, and then it’s only to gather their stuff so that by the time he reaches them, they’re both standing. Bull doesn’t stop when he hits normal conversational distance, just keeps going until he’s nose-to-nose with Cullen, who happens to be closer. His eyes widen, then he grins and tilts his head as Bull takes a handful of his shirt and hauls him forward into a kiss.

Neither of them is interested in keeping it chaste or polite. It’s wet and open-mouthed, tongues thrusting and teeth nipping, and Bull feels the shock of it down to the soles of his feet.

He gets another jolt of heat when a hand closes on one of his horns and Dorian’s mouth is suddenly there, tongue licking across Bull’s lips. The kiss turns messy, but Bull doesn’t care, changing the angle of his head so that all three of their mouths fit together, so that Dorian’s tongue can explore his mouth at the same time as Cullen’s, so that he can suck on Dorian’s lower lip while Cullen’s tongue traces the corner of his mouth. He cups the back of Dorian’s head and finds Cullen’s hand already there, and that’s almost as hot as the kiss itself, their hands tangled together in Dorian’s hair.

He doesn’t know who moves away first, but it isn’t far, just enough so they’re standing with their foreheads pressed together, all of them breathing hard.

About the time Bull is debating a try for another kiss, Dorian chuckles and asks him, “Can I assume that’s a yes, then?”

Bull tightens his hand in Dorian’s hair just to hear him gasp, then leans in to press a quick kiss to the corner of Cullen’s mouth. “Yeah, I think you can assume that.”

**Author's Note:**

> [on Tumblr](https://dragonflies-and-katydids.tumblr.com/post/144362345407/could-i-request-a-kiss-because-i-have-literally)


End file.
